


Intimacy

by useyourtelescope



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Crack, F/M, Humor, Mild Smut, Romance, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/pseuds/useyourtelescope
Summary: Clarke was confused and frankly insulted when her new husband Mr. Blake didn’t even try to sleep with her on their wedding night. She was raised to be a wife. She knew what that meant and was determined to fulfil her duty.It never occurred to Clarke that her new husband might just want to become better acquainted with her first.Semi-Finalist in Fluff Over 8000 words and Round 1 Winner in Smut Over 8000 words at the 2019 Bellarke Fan Work Awards





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is pretty much the prompt, but I added the confused element because what I ended up writing went more along those lines.  
> I got a little carried away with this awesome prompt, so the actual smut is still to come lol! The below is an edited version of what I managed to post while the kink meme was live.

Theirs was an arranged marriage.

Clarke Griffin had a reasonable fortune, but only the most distasteful suitors had been desperate enough to court a connection with the Griffin family after the scandals. First, there was her father’s death, and then her mother’s subsequent addiction to opioids. Abigail Griffin had since made a full recovery, but even after two years, the ton did not forget.

Clarke had been lucky that Lord Marcus Kane still cared enough for his old friends to propose Mr. Bellamy Blake. Although not from a known family, his promising law career and the patronage of Lord Kane had seen Mr. Blake’s respectability rapidly rise. If he had possessed even a small fortune, many town mamas would have been throwing their daughters into his path. However, his lack of an inheritance and the need to spend much of his earnings on raising his sister – a headstrong young girl who was also his ward – had dampened his prospects.

Lord Kane had suggested that they could both benefit by combining Clarke’s fortune and Mr. Blake’s rising position and no one had been able to disagree.

Following the scandals Clarke had set her expectations low; the most she had hoped for was to find a kindly older man who might not live very long after their marriage. But Mr. Blake was young, only three years her senior, and very handsome indeed, which made the prospect of her wifely obligations much easier to face.

Her mother had taught Clarke all about the duties of a wife over the years. Her friend Niylah had even explained how a lady could make some of these duties enjoyable for herself and not just her husband. Following Harper’s marriage last year Clarke had learnt that some husbands were aware of these methods themselves (and others besides). She did not yet know enough of Mr. Blake’s character to judge whether he would be as… _loving_ a husband as Mr. Green was to Harper, but she believed him to be a good man.

Confident that he would at the very least not be unkind to her, Clarke had felt fully prepared to fulfil her wifely duties as she settled back against the pillows, waiting for her new husband to enter her chambers.

She had been wholly unprepared to wake up the next morning on top of the bed covers, still laced into the pristine white nightgown that had been made especially for her wedding night.

As she dressed for breakfast, Clarke searched for some reason that would have kept Mr. Blake from her chambers. She could only conclude that he must have become injured and by the time he had been bandaged up she had fallen asleep. He had not seemed severely inebriated after the wedding reception, but it had been dark by the time they arrived at Lord Kane’s country manor for their honeymoon. One could easily stumble in candlelight, especially in unfamiliar surroundings.

However, when she arrived at the breakfast table Clarke saw no signs of injury on her new husband. He put his paper down to bid her a pleasant good morning with no hint that anything strange had occurred since she had seen him last.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked after she had returned his greeting.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, taking the seat opposite him. “And yourself?”

“Like a log. I had not realised how exhausted I was until we arrived last night.”

“I see,” Clarke said, relaxing. It had been a very busy week. Many preparations preceded the wedding itself yesterday morning, which had been followed by a reception and their direct departure to the countryside. She had fallen asleep quite quickly waiting for him; perhaps he had swiftly succumbed to sleep as well. “I hope that you feel recovered this morning.”

Mr. Blake answered in the affirmative, setting Clarke’s mind at ease. They could simply consummate the marriage tonight.

As they ate her husband suggested they spend the day exploring the house, expressing a particular interest in the library. “I believe you are fond of reading,” he noted.

“I am.”

“I did not have time to enjoy Lord Kane’s collection when I was here last, though it is excellent. Would you like to join me in the library after breakfast?”

Clarke agreed, expecting they would spend a short while there before touring the rest of the house in time for lunch. However, they fell into such deep discussion over much-loved books and the memories they evoked that they had to request lunch to be served to them in the library. They explored the rest of the house in the late afternoon to stretch their legs, but their conversation never faltered, and after they had visited the other rooms they returned to the library once more.

Clarke learnt more about her husband in that one day than she had over the winter months since their first meeting. By the time dinner had been served, Clarke could scarcely believe night had already fallen. She could not recall having ever previously spent all day with another person without desiring a break from their company, not even with her parents.

When she retired for the evening, Clarke raced to change into a nightgown, another more delicate and lovely than the kind she had worn to bed before she became a wife. Tonight as she settled onto her bed, she thought less of the obligation of her wifely duties and felt instead a growing sense of exhilaration. Having spent the day with her charming, handsome, attentive husband how could she feel anything else?

However, that excitement slowly faded as the minutes ticked by and Clarke continued to sit alone waiting for him. As she grew colder Clarke eventually tucked herself under the covers and put the candle out.

She went downstairs the next morning feeling his insult deeply. It would have tempered had her husband in fact been injured, but again he was a picture of health. He made no suggestion as to there being anything surprising in his behaviour and Clarke found she lacked the words to demand an explanation.

They spent the day exploring the village where he was just as attentive as yesterday, if not more so. Despite being ruffled by his absence at night, Clarke did enjoy walking about on his arm, as well as their conversation. His charms were clearly noted by most of the village ladies they passed, and Clarke felt a few glares expressed in her direction. Mr. Blake seemed so obtuse to the longing looks in his direction that Clarke idly wondered if he did not enjoy the company of women. But she had felt his eyes appreciating her form in the days of their engagement when he thought she wasn’t looking. It happened again that day when she was trying on a hat, and she caught his gaze covertly lingering on the low neckline of her dress.

Deciding to use that knowledge to her advantage, Clarke chose her nightgown carefully that night with the intention of waiting for her husband in his bedroom. Mr. Blake would not be able to deny Clarke her duties then.

After checking her hair in the glass, Clarke thought to apply some perfume to her neck, but on reaching for the bottle she uttered a gasp at the sight of a large spider crawling on the dresser. Collecting a loose paper she tried to shoo the insect further down the table and towards the window, but after a moment’s pause, it scampered towards her.

Clarke shrieked involuntarily and pulled her hand back before it could crawl over it.

The spider settled on the other end of the dresser, seeming to think she had given up. Clarke was debating whether to try again when a knock on the door interrupted her musings.

“Clarke?”

Clarke breathed out a sigh of relief at her husband’s voice. “Come in,” she said immediately, not wanting to keep him waiting now he had finally remembered their duties.

She readied a pleasant smile for his entrance but was surprised when he only opened it halfway and looked to her with concern. “What happened?” he asked, surveying the room. “You sounded distressed.”

“Oh. I found a spider,” she explained, gesturing to the dresser. “I was trying to lead it to the window, but it does not take direction well.”

His lips quirked up in a smile as he stepped into the room fully. “May I?” he asked reaching for the paper curled in her hand.

“Of course.”

She felt the barest touch of his fingers along her palm as he took the paper. He turned and crouched by the dresser, trying to lead the spider onto it.

He was too busy concentrating on his work to engage in conversation, and Clarke did not make any effort on her part. She put all her energies into admiring his form. He was clearly only just on his way to bed, but had already disregarded the formal niceties of public dress. Above his breeches was only his shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His bare forearms looked strong and almost golden in the candlelight. Clarke wanted to run her fingers across the skin, but she remained motionless until he had swiftly seen the spider to the window and closed it once more.

She managed to find her voice when he turned to look at her once more. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” He seemed about to continue when his gaze caught on her dress. This was the third of the four new nightgowns made for her wedding. Clarke had felt shy trying it on as it displayed much more of her ample bosom than her others, but it had the desired impact. His eyes were transfixed to the lacy neckline that sat indecently low on her chest for a long, heavy moment.

But then he cleared his throat, and lifted his head to continue in an even tone, “I’m sure it is a husband’s duty to keep his wife’s sleep free from unwanted disturbances.”

Clarke smiled at first, but then her mind caught on the word _sleep_. Surely he did not still mean to –

“Goodnight, Clarke,” he said kindly. And then he left her alone in her bedroom again.

Clarke did not know how to bring the subject up with him the next morning, but she did not long have the opportunity either. Their breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of one of Lord Kane’s servants sent from London. He carried an urgent letter from Miss Octavia Blake’s governess, accompanied by a rebuttal from the girl herself. Mr. Blake spent the day writing responses, before composing a missive to Lord Kane as well. Since the man was waiting to ride back with the letters Clarke composed a short note to her mother, before busying herself with other activities since the rain kept her inside. Embarrassingly, by the time Mr. Blake joined her she had put aside her drawing and was trying to practice her needlework, which was still shockingly bad.

She attempted to hide it behind a cushion but had to make it known when he nearly sat on it.

“Do not mock me by saying it is good for I know it is not,” she said, having grown uncomfortable at his silence as he stared at her shoddy work.

His mouth curled up in a soft smile. “You just need practice. I can give you some advice.”

Clarke could only stare at him most unbecomingly until he offered her an explanation.

“My mother was a seamstress.”

She had been unaware of that, but she knew very little about Mr. Blake’s mother. Clarke would have liked to learn more, but he did not elaborate. Instead, he sat down and started to unpick some of the stitches.

Clarke moved closer to him on the chaise before asking, “Is everything taken care of with your sister?”

“In truth, I am not sure. She says she only wanted a different walk, but her governess insists she was trying to run away.”

“And what do you think?”

He sighed a heavy, world-weary sound. “I think Octavia is restless. And she may need a new governess who can keep up with her wilfulness.”

His shoulders were tense and Clarke found her hand lifting to rest against his back, rubbing soothing circles. Her mother had told her that it was a wife’s duty to provide comfort to her husband in times of need, but Clarke found she wasn’t thinking of duty at all. “Do you wish to return to London?”

Clarke did not particularly want to cut her honeymoon short – especially not before they had even consummated their marriage – but she understood if Mr. Blake felt the need to go back.

“I considered it, but in truth, I think that would only make Octavia misbehave even more. I don’t believe she will try anything again for a few days. Besides,” he paused before continuing in almost a shy voice, “I do not wish to leave just yet. I feel quite content here.”

Clarke hoped it was not pride that made her think that he was looking intently at her when he spoke. “As do I.”

“It may be wise to return to London for more than one night before we depart again though. I would like to arrange with Octavia’s aunt to visit her more often first.”

Though Clarke had not forgotten about their upcoming bridal tour, this reminder made her realise the limited days available to consummate their marriage while still on honeymoon. Despite being armed with more knowledge of the act than many other women of her situation, she preferred to complete her duties for the first time while in their present, comfortable abode and not some random inn while constantly travelling. Therefore, as Mr. Blake corrected her needlework and asked after her childhood, Clarke mentally plotted how best to carry out her duties that night.

She was not proud of the plan she put together, but she had limited time available. Once dressed in the last of her new nightgowns, Clarke stood by her bedroom door, patiently listening for the sound of Mr. Blake’s footsteps up the stairs. As soon as they grew louder she moved to jostle the dresser and gave out a cry.

It sounded painfully fake to her ears but it achieved its goal.

Mr. Blake’s knock sounded almost immediately. “Clarke? Is something the matter?”

“Come in.”

He repeated his question once he had opened the door allowing Clarke to explain, “I knocked my foot against this –“

“Are you hurt? Here,” he continued, closing the door behind him and striding into the bedroom before she could answer. “Let me help you sit down.”

“I’m sure it is nothing,” she insisted, feeling guilty at his sharp concern. She was enjoying the feel of his arm around her waist though, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric, as he escorted her to the chair.

“Which foot?” he asked in a tone that brooked no argument, kneeling on the floor in front of her.

She hesitated for only a moment before raising her left foot. 

Clarke inhaled sharply when he took her bare foot between his hands. Any further plans flew from her mind at the feeling of one large rough palm engulfing the sole of her foot. The sensation it drew within her was so strong it was almost like feeling ticklish, although Clarke had no desire to laugh. Clarke never imagined the pad of Mr. Blake’s thumb softly stroking the skin around her ankle could cause such a stir within her. His other fingertips flirted with the hem of her nightgown but they did not inch higher.

“I – I’m sure it is n-nothing,” she repeated breathily, as his fingers ran back down the length of her foot. Her hands clenched the arms of the chair as he continued his assessment.

“It does not hurt to make certain.” His eyes determinedly studied her foot for a few more long moments, before he met her gaze. “I cannot see any damage. Does it still hurt?”

Clarke shook her head, unable to trust her voice.

“Good. I was hoping you and I could take a walk through the grounds tomorrow.”

“A walk?” She sounded quite dumb. Mr. Blake’s hands continued to gently caress her foot, although he did not seem to be aware of it.

“I was told you are fond of going walking.”

“I am.”

“They say the weather will be much better than today. Would you like to explore the grounds with me?”

“Yes. Indeed I would.” Clarke bit on her lip to stop more words unnecessarily flowing out of her mouth.

“Splendid.” Mr. Blake’s responding smile threatened to overtake his features and Clarke found herself unable to look away. Her husband did not give such smiles away freely, and she still did not know how to react when one was directed at her.

“I suggest we set off soon after breakfast.” He lowered her foot gently and did not let go until it had made contact with the floor.

She nodded as he stood.

His eyes lingered on her softly for a moment before he took a step back towards the door. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

“Goodnight.”

It was some time before the tingling sensation in her foot subsided, and Clarke recalled that she still had not performed her wifely duties.

But she was more determined than ever that she was going to.

The following day was indeed a fine spring morning and Lord Kane’s extensive grounds provided a picturesque setting for the young couple to walk arm in arm. They discussed pleasant memories of holidays past, which in turn revealed more about each of their childhoods.

Although Clarke was enjoying herself, one part of her mind could not help but remain on the night to come. Specifically how she could finally bring about the consummation of their marriage.

Following extensive contemplation, Clarke had come to a new realisation that might explain Mr. Blake’s avoidance of her bed: children. Although there were methods to prevent pregnancy, he might not be aware of them. Clarke herself had only learnt about these things quite recently. And they were not always effective, so the only way to ensure they would not have a child was to avoid consummation entirely.

She was pleased with her sound reasoning, but Clarke was uncertain whether her supposition made sense. After all, she had yet to see a more charming man around children than her husband. It was one of the reasons she had so quickly accepted the prospect of being married to him.

The only thing left to do was to inquire directly as to his feelings about children and Clarke seized upon the first opening she found, no matter how tenuous.

“There is a tree just like that one outside the Green’s home,” she observed. She gestured to the tree in question with her right hand before returning it to rest on top of her left, which was gently curled around her husband’s arm.

“Oh?”

“Yes. We should visit them when we return to London. I think you and Mr. Green would make good friends.” She had only been able to introduce her husband to the couple briefly at the wedding reception.

He nodded in agreement. “I am always happy to become better acquainted with your friends.”

“Did I mention Harper – Mrs. Green – is expecting?”

“No, I was not aware.”

“They were only going to start sharing the news this week, but she told me the day before the wedding since we would not be in town.”

“And you are happy for them?”

“Exceedingly.” This was her opportunity and Clarke would not squander it. “Have you given much thought to… children, Mr. Blake?”

From the corner of her eyes, Clarke observed his lips turn up in a slow, mischievous smile. “In what way?”

She did her best not to huff at having been unclear. “Having children. You and I – well.” She stopped before she sounded even more nonsensical. He would understand her meaning.

They walked a few more paces in quiet contemplation before he began, “Clarke, if you are feeling apprehensive about the prospect of us having children –“

“No,” she interrupted swiftly. “I am not apprehensive. I know my duty –“

“I am not interested in your duty,” he said with a burst of feeling that surprised Clarke. He seemed to sense her shock and took a moment before continuing with greater composure, “I wish to know your feelings as they are, not as they ought to be. Would you _like_ to be a mother?”

Clarke felt herself leaning in closer at his soft words. “Yes. I would. Though sometimes I fear I will not be up to the task,” she admitted. She had not shared that anxiety with anyone else, but after his declaration it felt easy to confess.

“I am certain that you can accomplish anything you truly desire.”

Except bed her husband, a sly voice in her mind supposed. It reminded her of the more important question. “And would you like to be a father?”

“I believe I would. Though some occasions give me pause…”

“Such as yesterday with your sister and her governess?”

“Precisely,” he agreed with a laugh.

“I’m sure it has not been easy, raising your sister by yourself these last few years, Mr. Blake. But do not forget you have a wife now to assist you with these matters.”

That sly smile from earlier returned to his lips, and Clarke found she could not help her curiosity a second time. “What is it?”

He cleared his throat before answering, a touch of amusement colouring his voice, “You insist on calling me, Mr. Blake.”

“Oh.” Clarke felt the colour rush to her cheeks, though sensibly she knew she did not need to be embarrassed. Many ladies of her acquaintance referred to their husbands by their last name or their title, even in private. Her acquaintance with Mr. Blake had been so brief they had not time to reach the intimacy in which it might have been assumed she would do otherwise. “You have not asked me to call you by your Christian name,” was all she could say.

“Is that the general practice? That one must be asked?”

She suspected he was still mocking her, so Clarke put on a haughty air to reply. “I do not know what the general practice is. But _I_ must be asked.”

He was laughing as he ceased his steps, turning to face her. Clarke followed suit and noted the gentle smile gracing his handsome features before he asked, “Will you?”

“I will. Bellamy,” she said sweetly, gratified to see his responding smile was somewhat embarrassed. “It is a beautiful name.” She had always thought so.

His eyes grew intense then, his voice rougher when he replied, “It is when you speak it.”

Clarke flushed, suddenly torn between the desire to hide her face and a reluctance to break from his darkening stare. His hand reached up to skim the side of her face, and the same feeling that had swelled inside her last night resurfaced.

She did not know what she expected to happen next, but Clarke did not foresee that Mr. Blake – _Bellamy_ – would press his lips to hers.

This kiss was gentle at first, not unlike the one he gave her at their wedding. But soon his lips grew more insistent and Clarke sighed at the first swipe of his tongue, granting him access to her mouth. The hand at her cheek moved to cup her head and Clarke leaned back into it, opening herself up to his exploration. Her hands came to rest on his jacket, the fabric curling between her fingers as she did her best to match the growing intensity of his lips.

When Bellamy suddenly broke away from her, his hand returning to his side, Clarke could only stare at him. He stared right back, eyes fixed on her softly parted lips as they both regained their breath. Her hands felt strangely empty as they now hung limply by her sides.

“You did not kiss me like that before.” It was more accusatory than Clarke had intended.

Bellamy laughed. “It would not have been proper with everyone watching.”

“No one is watching now.”

He smiled broadly at her cheek and leaned forward again. Clarke held her breath in anticipation and closed her eyes, only to feel his soft lips brush against the corner of her mouth.

When she opened her eyes once more he was a respectable distance away from her, busy straightening his jacket from where she had crumpled it. Then he offered her his arm. “We should start heading back if we want to return for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Clarke said rather dumbly.

“Yes. Lunch.”

At that moment she cared not one whit for lunch, but she acquiesced, taking his arm.

Well, Clarke mused as they began to walk back to the house, her husband was clearly not a man who was easily so overcome with passion that he would take leave of his senses.

That just meant she would have to try even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise a set date for when I'll finish this as I'm working on a few other Bellarke fics at the moment too. It is partially written though and I hope to have it up in the next couple of weeks. Let me know what you thought either below or on [tumblr](https://useyourtelescope.tumblr.com/). :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left comments/kudos! I really appreciate them all and it's good to know I'm not the only one clamouring for more Historical/Regency!Bellarke 😁  
> I had a lot of fun writing this, though I feel I should apologise that the smut turned out rather mild for a kink meme fic lol

Despite her disappointment that her husband could so readily cut short his devastating kiss to pander to the whims of his stomach, Clarke could see the sense in his decision by the time they returned to the house. After all, she was not so brazen that she wished to be ravished in the middle of the grounds when any of Lord Kane’s servants could have walked past.

She only desired her husband would display _some_ inclination towards ravishing her.

It was not the sort of thought a gently bred lady should entertain, but Clarke had learnt long ago that many of her preferences were considered rather… _singular_ among her set, to put it mildly. Perhaps it should not be a surprise that she would take an uncommon attitude towards her marriage. After all, her personal feelings towards her wifely duty were of no concern to anyone other than her husband. And after that kiss, Clarke was convinced he was a man with passionate feeling.

If only she could understand the reason behind Bellamy’s restraint.

After lunch, they spent much of the afternoon reading and the companionable silence had given Clarke the opportunity for further contemplation. It was during this time that she decided her husband might need more encouragement on her part. As the hour drew nearer to dinner, Clarke claimed that her skirts were weighing her down with mud from their earlier walk and left to change before eating. Clarke had never cared about such trivial matters and even her mama had stopped asking her to change in such circumstances unless they had guests present. But it was useful that Bellamy was not yet well enough aware of her habits to see anything suspicious in this remark. He accepted her statement easily and returned to his book as she left for her bedchamber to survey the wardrobe she had brought.

Her mama had insisted that she pack an outfit for every possible occasion, for she never knew what she might require. Clarke had argued there was no need, but now she was glad to have let Abby convince her to bring one evening dress. The gown was entirely too formal to wear to dinner in just the company of her husband. However, the emerald green satin with delicate trim around the low square neckline complimented her hair and eyes nicely and made Clarke feel more confident in her appearance.

More importantly for her current purpose, the cut showed off a copious amount of her skin. It was still completely proper to wear in polite company, of course, but Bellamy had not yet seen her in such a gown.

As Clarke had never tried her hand at seduction before, a few nerves trembled in her stomach as she left her bedchamber and walked to the staircase. She was gratified to see that Bellamy was waiting for her by the foot of the stairs – even more so when he laid eyes on her and immediately stumbled, knocking his hip into the banister despite having been stood quite still a moment before.

“I hope I have not kept you waiting long,” she said when he made no attempt to speak even as she grew closer.

His eyes pierced through her as he replied in an unsteady voice, “No. Though I fear I may be underdressed.”

“Not in the slightest,” came her pleasant reply. Coming to a stop at the bottom and catching his eye, Clarke continued, “Mama insisted I bring one evening gown so I felt I must wear it even if we have no occasion for it. You don’t think it is too much, do you?” She brushed her skirt down, drawing his attention to the way the candlelight glinted off the fabric.

“No. Not at all.”

She would have preferred a more effusive compliment, but the tight set of his lips showed Clarke without words that he was struggling to express himself. For a man who she had come to learn had no shortage of words that would do very nicely. Besides, they had the rest of the evening for him to admire her.

He held out his arm to her to take her in to dinner and as they ate their first course Clarke felt her choice of dress was working very well.

Perhaps too well.

Despite spending so much time together on their honeymoon, they had never struggled for conversation between them. Any prolonged silences had felt companionable rather than awkward or uncomfortable. But there was a stilted quality to their conversation that evening that Clarke did not enjoy.

It improved somewhat after the soup had been cleared – Clarke realising in hindsight that in constantly tilting forward to lift her spoon to her lips, Bellamy would have seen further down her chest than the dress already revealed – but even as he spoke more, his gaze couldn’t settle.

Clarke had successfully drawn his eyes to her form, but she hadn’t known she would miss his gaze on her face as he either agreed with or debated her opinions, his eyes sparkling just as much either way.

“Have you given any thought to what would you like to do tomorrow?” Clarke inquired after another lull in the conversation.

He cleared his throat before answering, “Whatever you would like.”

“I’m not sure what there is we haven’t done yet.” She recognised the poor choice of words as soon as she finished speaking. Clarke was painfully aware of what they hadn’t done yet. “I believe we have seen all the sights,” she added hastily.

“Why don’t we ask?” Bellamy suggested before ringing for the butler. The man did not keep them waiting, and once Bellamy questioned him on the sights, he began to list every single item of interest in the various neighbouring villages.

They had started dessert by the time the butler left.

Bellamy graced her with a brief smile, before returning his gaze to his plate. “Well, it seems there is no shortage of places we can still visit.”

“Indeed.” Who knew there were so many country wells.

As Clarke did not express a particular fondness for any locations, Bellamy mentioned those he had the most interest in and they discussed a possible itinerary for the following day.

Afterwards, Bellamy suggested they move to the library and Clarke readily agreed. Though they usually went to the sitting room after dinner, the library was a favourite haunt of theirs and she felt it must be a positive sign that he wanted to spend more time there.

However, rather than engaging in their usual conversation, he picked up the book he had been reading earlier. Unlike that afternoon, Clarke distinctly felt that she was being ignored.

That would not do.

A more seasoned seductress would likely move closer to her prey, but Clarke could not bring herself to be quite so bold even with her husband. Deciding on a more subtle approach, Clarke picked up her book. Instead of settling in her usual chair, she chose a seat that was directly in the corner of Bellamy’s eye line.

She sat with such perfect posture that her mama might have been proud to see the way Clarke held herself upright – if one put aside the fact that her intentions in finally following her lessons exactly were to draw a man’s attention to her breasts.

She held her book low in her lap, making certain not to block Bellamy’s view. She felt his eyes flicker to her many times, but on the occasions she dared to look back he was staring steadfastly at his book.

When she began to tire of this silent battle of wills, Clarke ventured to ask, “Are you still enjoying your book?”

“Yes.”

“Only you don’t seem to have made much progress this evening,” Clarke observed, trying to sound unconcerned.

His lips pursed. He could not argue with her, for she was sure he had not turned more than one page since they came in. For herself, Clarke had turned many pages, though she had not taken any of the words in.

“I think I may not be in the mood for it. In fact, I shall go to bed,” he said suddenly.

“Now?” Clarke could not keep the surprise from her tone.

He closed his book decisively and stood. “We will have a busy day tomorrow. I should get some rest.”

He bid goodnight to her with a nod, not waiting for her response before he turned.

Clarke’s mouth hung open in a most unmannerly fashion, as she was torn between insult and frustration. Dash it all, she would have to say something.

If they walked past one of those country wells tomorrow without having spoken plainly, she was liable to throw him down one.

“Wait!” He had not yet reached the door, so he turned around to face her.

“Yes?”

“Bellamy,” she began in a soft tone as he had liked it so much when she said his name earlier.

This time he appeared unmoved.

“Perhaps…I thought perhaps I could sleep in your bedchamber tonight.” She willed herself to keep a placid face even though she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

His eyebrows disappeared under his untamed curls, but otherwise he remained perfectly still. His voice was calm when asking, “Is your room cold?”

“No.”

“I hope the bed is comfortable –“

“Yes, yes, most comfortable.” Clarke stood almost involuntarily, starting to cross the room.

“The spider has not returned, has he?”

“The spider!” Clarke exclaimed. The sudden burst of incredulity halted her steps. “Bellamy, we have not had our wedding night!”

“Ah.”

Clarke did not trust herself to respond after her outburst, but as the silence stretched thin and Bellamy struggled to meet her eyes, Clarke’s resolve weakened.

“I… Don’t I please you?” She had been so certain that his distraction tonight had stemmed from desire, but his retreat made her concerned that it was caused by displeasure.

He softened immediately, taking two long strides so he was only an arms-length away from her. His words tumbled out in a hoarse whisper, “Clarke, you are the most beautiful creature I ever laid eyes on. Of course you please me.”

A pink flush started at her cheeks and travelled further down her neck and chest, disappearing behind her dress. “Then why will you only visit my bedchamber when you think I’m in peril?” She hoped she did not sound quite as small as she felt in asking.

His lips twitched and she was not sure if it was amusement or resignation. “Can a man not wish to know his wife before he lies with her?”

Clarke frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His responding laugh seemed almost embarrassed. “Clarke, you and I – we come from very different worlds,” Bellamy said somewhat mournfully, looking away from her.

“I told you before I don’t care about your background.”

“I know.” He gazed down at her with soft eyes, his words gentle as he explained, “I am trying to say that my friends – everyone I grew up with – they all married someone they knew. It wasn’t always love, but there was at least friendship. Arranged marriages may be commonplace to you, but they are not to me.” He shot her a nervous smile. “We have been so busy planning everything, it was only when the time came for our wedding night that I realised just how little I knew my new wife.”

“I see.” Clarke nodded, finally understanding.

He tilted his head, considering her. “Did you not have any doubts about lying with a near stranger on your wedding night?”

“I know my duty –“

It was the wrong thing to stay. Bellamy’s face which had a moment before been so open shuttered suddenly and he took a step back. Clarke hurried to continue so he would understand her.

“I was prepared to do what was expected of a wife because I was taught that I had to. I did have some apprehensions at first, but… those disappeared soon after we began to spend time together, just you and I.” Bellamy looked appeased by that so she asked. “Why didn’t you speak to me?”

“When you did not say anything after that first night I thought you were probably happy to put it off for as long as possible.”

“I didn’t think I needed to say something!” Clarke argued. “If you had simply told me I would not have needed to go to such lengths!”

Bellamy frowned. “What lengths?”

Clarke blushed and pursed her lips together tightly. Bellamy’s brows furrowed and he studied her carefully as Clarke’s mind raced for an acceptable response. She did not like to tell him about her deception last night, but she felt herself wilting under his close observation.

Finally, she began, “I admit my foot–“

At the same moment, Bellamy had begun speaking in a rough tone, “Clarke, are you saying that – “ He stopped suddenly as Clarke’s words sunk in and his eyes grew wide in horror. “Your foot! Don’t tell me you injured yourself to gain my attention!”

She cringed at having unwittingly revealed her small deception. “I did not injure myself. I merely pretended to,” Clarke explained in a prim tone.

His shock did not diminish. “You invented an injury to try to consummate our marriage?”

It sounded ludicrous when he spoke in that tone.

She huffed through her nose. “Well, I did not know what else to do!”

He sounded deflated when he said, “Was asking me so out of the question?”

“You make it sound so simple.” There were few people in Clarke’s life she had the luxury of speaking plainly with. Perhaps it was silly not to have thought her husband could be one of them. At least, it was now that she had spent this week getting to know him. “I am sorry.”

He shook his head ruefully. “No, it is I who must apologise. I should not have assumed either, and I was the first to do so. Please know it was never my intention to cause you any distress.” He sighed, a wry smile on his lips. “I suppose I am far from the kind of husband you envisaged marrying.”

Clarke blinked as she took in his expression, akin to remorse; his statement was correct of course, but she couldn’t be happier that was the case.

“I suppose you are,” she admitted, before taking a tentative step closer. “I never thought I would be so fortunate as to find a husband I liked so much as you.”

His eyes snapped up to hers, the tension leaving his body when he saw she spoke the truth. Bellamy’s hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head upwards before he leant down and kissed her with a surety that took Clarke’s breath away.

She held on to his arms tightly, even when he broke away to rest his forehead against hers. “That is my sentiment exactly, dear Clarke.”

Clarke smiled, fighting a blush at the endearment. When a recollection crept into her mind, she first tried to push it away. But when his nose sweetly grazed against hers, Clarke decided to ask, “What were you about to ask me earlier? Before I mentioned last night?” she prompted.

To her surprise, Bellamy looked embarrassed, pulling back. “It is no matter.”

Clarke took a step back so his hands fell from her face and looked at him sternly. “I thought we were done with assumptions, Mr. Blake.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement though he was still somewhat flushed. “Very well. When you mentioned your efforts, I thought you might have been referring to your clothing.”

“Oh.” Clarke looked down involuntarily, her hands moving to run over the satin. “Well, yes. That too,” she admitted.

“You mean – you wore this for me?” He spoke as if it were unfathomable.

“Yes.” The word had barely passed her lips when he crushed his mouth to hers, gathering Clarke tightly in his arms. Her surprised exclamation was caught against his lips. His kiss was rougher than before, but she soon returned his ardour, wrapping her arms around his neck while his large hands splayed wide across her back.

When their lips parted, gasping for air, Clarke kept her arms locked in place around his neck, not daring to let him go. However, he showed no inclination to leave. Instead, he trailed kisses along her jawline and behind her ear. Clarke tilted her head back with a pleased sigh, enjoying the sensation with only a few pleased hums until something occurred to her.

“Bellamy?”

“Yes?”

She paused to recollect her voice after he nibbled on a particularly sensitive spot. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“Exactly how well acquainted would you like us to be before we lie together?”

“Well…” he murmured, starting to trail kisses down her neck and tightening his hold – as if she could have contemplated being anywhere other than his embrace at that moment. “I fear that it will take me a very long time to learn all there is to know about you.” His lips grazed the hollow of her throat before venturing further still. “And as I desire to know you most intimately,” he said, punctuating the word with a kiss to the top of her breast, eliciting a gasp from Clarke, “I believe the most sensible course of action is to start this very minute.”

“Oh, yes,” Clarke agreed, her fingers curling in his hair as he peppered kisses just above the neckline of her dress. “Most sensible, husband.”

She took his responding groan as agreement so she was surprised when he let go of her waist and took a sharp step back.

“Bellamy,” she whined in frustration.

“We must go upstairs.” The hoarse set of his voice suggested he was not as composed as he tried to act, but he appeared determined.

Clarke pouted.

“I am not going to give you your wedding night against a _bookshelf_.”

She found the library to be a setting infinitely preferable to the grounds, but he was probably right. “Very well. But perhaps another time?” she ventured.

Bellamy’s eyes shut as an aggrieved look came over his face. “Clarke, please,” he insisted, gesturing to the door.

She took pity on him, skirting around him to exit. She waited in the hallway while he closed the library door and let the butler know that they would be retiring early tonight. As she started up the stairs Clarke was surprised to find him quite so many steps behind.

“Must we walk so far apart?”

“I don’t trust myself.”

Clarke sighed, though secretly she was very happy he was so moved.

“And which chamber are we retiring to?” she wondered.

“Whichever is closer,” came his curt reply.

She felt triumphant as she reached the landing, turning towards her bedchamber, eagerly hastening her steps before opening the door and walking inside. When Bellamy closed the door behind them he took a moment to stare at her dresser before studying her once more.

“Now promise me you will not go injuring yourself for my attention,” he stated, clearly only half-teasing.

She smiled beatifically up at him. “I promise. Now, will you hurry up and remove my dress?”

It took one long stride before he was planting a firm kiss on her lips. His hands came around her back to follow her instructions, but soon he was grumbling against her mouth, “Why does this have buttons? And why are they so small?”

“It is the latest fashion,” Clarke said lightly, kissing across his cheek to his jawline. As he continued to fumble with the delicate buttons she wondered, “Should I call for –“

“No,” he said brusquely. “I don’t need assistance to undress my wife.”

She protested when he moved further back but let him turn her around and get a closer look at his nemeses. Once he managed the buttons Bellamy helped Clarke pull the garment off before he grumbled again at her many remaining layers.

“These will be easier,” Clarke said with a laugh. Her petticoat and chemise were held in place only by ribbon ties so it didn’t take long for Bellamy to pull them open and Clarke to shift the upper layers over her arms. She then pushed all her remaining layers to the floor and stepped out of her slippers.

She could feel the heat in Bellamy’s eyes before she turned to face him, now completely bare. It was impossible to feel cold though, or even shy, with his heavy gaze searing her skin. The longer he stared the more her fingers itched to unclothe him the way he had her. “Now I feel _I_ am the one who is underdressed.”

“Oh, never.” He smiled widely but instead of removing any of his garments, Bellamy kissed her once more. Clarke worked on pulling his shirt from his breeches but he held her so close her movements were too limited.

“Bellamy,” she whined against his lips, tugging on his jacket sleeves.

He wrenched away from her and made quick work of his boots before divesting himself of his upper garments. He had just let his shirt fall to the ground when Clarke reached a hand to touch the firm, bronze skin of his chest, her fingers trailing the black curls that lightly dusted his chest.

“Bellamy!” This time it was an exclamation as he wrapped her in his arms and walked her backward to the bed.

She tried to protest that he was still not fully undressed. However, Clarke lost any inclination to argue once Bellamy was lying over her, his lips trailing from her neck to her breasts, kissing and sucking on her sensitive skin.

When Bellamy’s mouth ventured even further south, Clarke discovered that her husband was in fact _very_ well acquainted with the ways one might please their wife.

She lost all sense of time – not to mention functioning speech – as he guided her over the brink not once, but twice.

If someone had told Clarke her wedding night would involve that, she would have increased her seduction efforts many days earlier.

Bellamy’s head rested on the pillow next to her afterwards, and he pressed soft kisses onto her neck as she regained her composure.

There were an infinite number of things she could say, but the words that fell from her lips were a breathily uttered, “Thank you.”

She could feel his wicked smile curl against her hot skin before he raised his head to aim it directly at her. “The pleasure was all mine.”

She brought him down for another kiss and it took her a moment to realise the new taste to his mouth was herself. Despite the immense pleasure she had just received, her arousal was revived by the knowledge. Clarke wanted nothing more than to be even closer to him, and she let her hands drift to pull the rest of his body into contact with hers. The feel of his hard frame against her was glorious, except that the thick fabric of his breeches continued to get in the way.

Tugging at the offending garment she insisted, “Bellamy if you don’t rid yourself of these right now, I will scream.”

“I rather enjoyed your screaming,” he replied, raising a saucy eyebrow at her. Clarke flushed at this remark, but he was already moving to stand and remove his breeches.

When he stood tall, with the candlelight highlighting the sculpted planes of his naked body, Clarke felt all breath leave her chest in a rush.

She thought she must be a wicked woman indeed to feel only exhilaration at the sight before her, her hand reaching out for him seemingly of its own volition.

But at least her husband did not seem to mind if the way he returned her lustful gaze was any indication.

Her admiration of his form was interrupted when he returned to the bed, but she could not be disappointed. She revelled in his feeling his hot, hard length against her. His kisses and wandering hands soon had her eagerly wrapping her legs around him, encouraging, even pleading with him, to get on with the very thing she had been so warned about.

When Bellamy first entered her, Clarke did feel the pain that she had been told about. However, her husband distracted her from the discomfort with languid kisses on her lips and soon the pain was a distant memory. She then felt only pleasure, one that increased with every thrust of his hips. She grew light-headed at the sight of her husband finally losing his composure, having to close her eyes when his fingers trailed down to the place their bodies joined. It was not long before Clarke tumbled over the edge once more, and Bellamy followed her soon after, coming undone in her arms with her name on his lips. 

Clarke stirred awake slowly the next morning. She was surprised at the heat radiating at her back before she remembered her husband was sharing her bed. They had finally – and thoroughly – consummated their union.

Looking over her shoulder, she found Bellamy was already awake. He was watching her, a soft smile on his face.

“Good morning wife.” His voice was roughened with sleep and it made her shiver as she turned to lie on her other side, facing him.

“Good morning husband,” she replied brightly, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. And yourself?”

“I did. I hope I acquitted myself of my husbandly duties to your satisfaction last night.”

Clarke giggled and buried her face in his delectably warm chest. It was silly, but she even liked his teasing her. “Last night was wonderful. Although,” she began, peeking up at him with a coy expression, “I do have one concern.”

Playful as it was, her remark caused Bellamy to frown. “What is it?”

Clarke bit her lip. “What lengths I shall have to go to before it can happen again.”

Bellamy laughed into her hair and Clarke’s heart felt lighter at the sound.

“Do not trouble yourself on that account, dear Clarke,” he insisted, moving to roll on top of her. Clarke’s arms tightened around his neck as her thighs clenched at the dip to his voice. “You will not be able to keep me away.”

“I thought you wanted an excursion today?” she asked innocently.

“On reflection, I believe we had better stay in bed today,” he said, before wetly kissing her neck. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” she murmured, closing her eyes in contentment. “Well, as your dutiful wife I must agree.”

Bellamy’s mirthful laugh vibrated against her neck, drawing a smile to her lips. “Dutiful indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a little edit for this on tumblr, which is [here](https://useyourtelescope.tumblr.com/post/186679950098/intimacy-regencybellarke-au-rated-mature) \- any guesses from the period drama fans where all the caps are from? ;)  
> For anyone wanting more in this vein I was working on a different Regency!Bellarke fic for my Bellarke Bingo board before I picked this prompt up so will be working on completing that now I've finished this. It won't be my next fic but keep an eye out for it later.  
> Finally, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! 😊
> 
> **ETA October '19:** Thank you so much to whoever nominated and voted for this fic at the 2019 BFWAs, it was so appreciated! I honestly couldn't believe this fic was a semi-finalist in the fluff category, it makes me very happy so many of you enjoyed this 💗


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